Chapter Text
“Flins?” The voice was gentle as it pulled the lighthouse owner from his thoughts, looking up towards Lauma as she slowly slid into the seat across from him. “You’re here awfully early.”
Flins shrugged. By here, she had meant his arrival at the restaurant Flins currently sat in, reading by himself in the low light of the dining table’s candle as it flickered and danced on the wall.
“The lighthouse was stuffy,” Flins lied as easily as he breathed, though he was sure she wouldn’t buy into it.
“Would you let me buy you breakfast?” Lauma offered as she rested back in her own chair, one hand still on the table, holding two menus loosely between her fingers as she gave Flins a soft smile. The dress she wore was a pale, almost pastel blue, clinging to her in all the right places for the intended audience.
The audience, of which, did not include Flins.
“Won’t your suitors be upset?” Flins asked gently as he set his book down in front of himself, folding a bookmark between its pages as he shifted to cross one leg over the other. “I’d rather not have to fight a man who thinks I’m after your hand.”
Lauma laughed. “I don’t think any man would truly believe the bookworm who locks himself in a lighthouse at the edge of town to be interested in marriage.”
“And yet if they listened to you they’d know you aren’t either.” Flins retorted as he shifted to take one of the offered menus. Nod-Krai was quite in these early morning hours, when shops opened as the sunlight danced along the edge of the world as it rose slowly to its eventual peak in the sky.
Flins enjoyed these hours more than most. When the air was cool but not freezing, when the sun was barely dawning over the horizon. Most people weren’t up at these hours. And that’s what Flins liked best.
Lauma was usually one of those people. She wasn’t usually awake until the sun was well into the sky, and she didn’t get dressed until much later when she finally decided she had to leave the house. For whatever chores a priestess like herself had on the days that weren’t dedicated to the worship of the Goddess Kuutar.
Today was not the day dedicated to worshiping Kuutar.
Today was an average day.
“You said I was here early,” Flins called back to her opening statement, watching over the line of his menu as Lauma’s face shifted ever so slightly to look away from Flins. “But what is your excuse?”
Lauma let out a soft sigh. “Ever perceptive, aren’t you?”
“I try to be.” Flins hummed as he looked back at his menu.
They were both silent for a long time. A comfortable silence, despite Flins catching Lauma lying by omission. Even as Flins was sure Lauma was going through everything in her head not to confess the truth to Flins.
She’d cave eventually. Flins just had to bide his time.
“Some smoked fish sound delicious this morning,” Flins hummed as he set the menu down, giving an innocent smile at Lauma as she shifted to cross her arms underneath assets that Flins wondered how her back held up. “What about you?”
“Oh, um,” Lauma bit her lip as she looked at the menu herself, before she hummed softly. “A vegetable salad seems good this morning…”
“A wise choice.” Flins hummed as he collected the menus together, gently tapping them on the table to even them out before he stood and walked to the counter to order their respective dishes, and water to drink.
He waited at the counter as he watched Lauma quietly from a distance. Giving her time to think was sure to make her crack and reveal the truth, especially with the fact Flins already knew. There wasn’t much hiding from a man who already knew you were hiding something. Especially one compared to the fae in his talent of getting truths from people.
He returned to the table with the two glasses of water. He sat one in front of himself as he sat down, sitting the other glass closer to Lauma at the table, before she gently took it and took a hefty sip of the ice cold glass.
He busied himself with the book he had brought with him, the opened leather against the table with his hand holding the pages he was to turn. He was reading a tragedy. One he had found rather interesting as he perused the shelves of the local library a few days prior.
A legend of a dragon, the kind you’d see scouting the ground from the skies of Mondstadt as their giant wings beat gusts of wind down across tree lines and shingled roofs. The kind you’d see gliding through the waters of Fontaine, their wings used the same way as Hunter’s Ray's own wings to navigate.
At least that’s what the stories implied. Flins had never the honor of leaving Nod-Krai’s borders to explore the unknowns of the rest of Teyvat. He wished he could. For he was sure there were many coins and many stones he had yet to collect in his vast collection of treasures.
The dragon had a lover. A human lover. Dark haired and as brave as the sun dawning over the horizon in its successful defeat of the darkness. The king of the story did not love how the heir was infatuated with a dragon, and so ordered the creature slain, and the head of the beast brought to him as the prize.
Flins couldn't bring himself to understand the king’s perspective in the story. Just because your child found a love unconventional to his own, did not give the king the right to slay his child’s fated partner. Right?
But that may, too, come from the unconventional nature of Flins’ own attractions. For if anyone knew, his future lover may too be treated with the same hostility as the dragon from the tale. Though even crueler, as his own lover would be human, and not a being feared by most as fierce and dangerous, with claws the size of knives and teeth as sharp as blades.
Lauma let out a shaky sigh, her finger dragging through the condensation on the surface of her glass. Flins’ attention was brought to her, looking at her through long lashes while pretending to keep his focus on the pages before him.
“Nefer told me not to tell anyone but it’s terribly impossible to keep anything from you,” Her tone was soft as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat, moving to drink once again as if the words themselves dried out her mouth and tongue as she spoke.
Flins gently folded the corner of his page, wishing he had brought a bookmark as he closed the book’s binding and gently crossed his hands over the top of it. He turned his full attention to Lauma, giving her the most innocent smile he could muster. Despite the fact he was rather prideful in the fact he could read her so easily and knew when she would crack. “Do continue.”
Lauma huffed out another soft sigh as she set her glass down. “I’m sure you’re familiar with Jahoda, yes?” Lauma asked as their foods were brought to the table, set down in front of their respective owners before the server walked away without a word. And if the nasty glare he shot silently towards Flins was anything to go off of, he knew why too. Flins lifted his fork with a nod. He had never met her personally, but he knew enough of her talents from those around them that he could say he was familiar with her. He didn’t say anything, hoping Lauma would continue. And thankfully, she did without much hesitation. “Nefer had sent her on a mission to the abandoned castle towards the north,”
Flins was familiar with the building. There had been plenty of rumors about its existence and how the old building with no one to care for it still stood. Vines creeped up the old stone, covering cracked windows and rotting banisters. Plenty of people claimed to hear howling from the old building, or claim to see figures moving through the windows at night that inexplicably were lit by candles.
Ghost stories, Flins would call them. No one has lived in that castle since the disappearances of the old aristocratic family that once called it home. And there were plenty more ghost stories around the night they, along with all of their staff, vanished into thin air than the ones surrounding the old castle itself.
“The librarian that used to work there collected hundreds of books from far and wide,” Flins’ attention fully turned to Lauma. Books? Hundreds of books? Now he was interested. “And Nefer wanted to make a log of all the information left in the castle and the state it may have been left in.”
“Let me guess,” Flins clicked his tongue, “Jahoda got scared of the ghost stories and wasn’t able to enter so you decided to ask the local bookworm?” He laughed, but somehow found it came out sounding dry.
Lauma shook her head. “She went,” Lauma corrected, before she tapped her fingers against the edge of her plate. “The trip should’ve taken three days at the longest, according to Nefer. But it’s been two weeks now and we have no information on her, her safety, or her whereabouts.”
Flins blinked once as he looked across to Lauma, who unlike him, hadn’t once touched her own food since it was brought. She just picked at the edge of the plate with her nails, and her eyes wouldn’t even meet with Flins.
That was concerningly dangerous. The average human could survive roughly three weeks without food, and even less without water. They had no way of confirming if Jahoda was able to get her hands on more than what she brought with her for the initial trip, and the castle itself probably had nothing more than old rotten food and poisoned water.
She would starve to death after another week. If she hadn’t already poisoned herself with something rotten or contaminated.
“Are you asking me for a rescue mission?”
“We’re asking for your advice.” Lauma sighed.
Suddenly Flins had lost his appetite too.
He had no advice he could give. Flins didn’t even know what he could give in terms of advice. He took a deep breath, set his fork down at the side of his plate and stood from the table.
“Flins?”
“I’ll go bring her back.” Flins hummed as he lifted his book from the table, shifting it under his arm as he turned to look at Lauma. “And I could get a look at those books too.”
~~~
Flins didn’t wait for the next morning or even nightfall before he left. It was late afternoon by the time he set off on a horse he borrowed from Nefer, with a bag of food and water rations, a sword he once again borrowed, and a blanket for warmth. He was confident he would be home before the sun set, but just in case, he left Illuga in control of his lighthouse to ensure it would be handled in case he got back later than intended. Unlikely, but counted for none the less.
The horses' hooves sank into the light layer of snow with each step as Flins guided the massive steed towards the ever growing castle in the distance. Flins would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little bit nervous. The larger the castle got as he drew closer the deeper a seed of doubt dropped into his stomach.
What if Jahoda was already dead? What if this entire trip ended up being pointless? What if Flins got himself stuck to a slow agonizing death of starvation in a castle so large and rotten that Flins had no hope of ever getting out. It sent a wave of anxiety through his body.
The castle looked scary in the early evening light. Vines snaking up cracked walls, holes in the exterior of the upper towers. Patches of roof having fallen to the floor from storm and wind, left how it was with no one to clean or repair it. And yet, a light was shining out through the window of one of the upper towers.
Flins blinked once as he looked up at it.
There was a small shadow left in the window. Flins could vaguely make out the shape of a stuffed animal. It suddenly made him feel sad, a child left without their beloved toy, left to rot away in a castle no one approached. Or a toy left without a life, cut too short by the curse of a time long gone to most.
Flins didn’t want to dwell on what might’ve happened to the toy’s owner. He looked away from the window as he approached the castle entrance, swinging his leg over the side of the horse with a sickening crunch of snow as he landed to his feet. He stretched, taking the horse by its reins and leading it to a broken stone fence post left by the door, overgrown with weeds that overtook the garden it once fenced in. Flins tied the horse, making sure it would stay before he turned to the castle door
He did not notice how the shadow of the plush moved from its seat on the window.
Large and imposing, the door stood at least twice Flin’s own height; he never understood why the rich needed to show off with such impractical design. The door was wooden, with intricate designs and carvings that resembled something on the banners of the old Favonius cathedral that had long since been abandoned and repurposed in his own home town.
Were the aristocrats who once lived here from Mondstadt? The church in his town had once been a missionary location built by followers of the God of Freedom, as they had claimed. So if the carving were the same as the banners, it would make sense for them to have come from the same place.
That would also explain the family’s disappearance. He knew of the Lawrence family and their iron thumb rule over Mondstadt. This castle was a relic of its time, having been built in the time of the Lawrence family’s rule. So it would make sense if they had been called back to Mondstadt and just decided to never return.
But there were no records of exactly when the castle had been abandoned. And Flins was sure there would be some information on when the family that once lived here decided they’d return to their home country, especially with how immigrant filled Nod-Krai had been for hundreds of years.
Flins didn’t let his thoughts continue further. A disgusting screech and groan greeted Flins as he forced the door open with his right shoulder, arm, and left hand braced against the old surface. Light poured in from the crack in the open door, and Flins was just barely able to make out a dust covered floor and the blood red of a welcome carpet dulled by the tides of time. It smelled of dust and mildew, and Flins couldn’t make out more than the light from outside would provide him.
It was dark. Very dark. As Flins stepped inside, tracking snow onto the old dust covered floor, he couldn’t make out much in front of him. He scanned the area for anything that might be useful to even the slightest degree, and he spotted an old lantern sitting on a shelf by the door.
More so leaned in a crevice against the wall as if it was placed there by a child trying to hide it from someone else.
Flins took a deep breath before he stepped inside the old castle, approaching the lantern and lifting it into his hands, before carrying it back to the light of the door.
It was purple. A deep almost black purple that shimmered in the light as he tilted and turned the lantern in his hands. It was lined in gold, intricate details made to look like the thorns of a rose with the actual molding of a rose at the bottom of the lantern and the top, where the handle rose (heh) from.
It was strange. So beautiful and intricate that Flins couldn’t help but want to take it home with him regardless of if he found Jahoda alive or not. Flins tested one of the lantern’s sides, sliding the door of it open with surprising ease before he stepped back outside to check for a match and oil.
He attached the lantern to his side, reaching into his horse’s bag to look for something he could light it with when he heard the sound of a metal click. When he looked down at the lantern by his side, it had closed.
Flins blinked once, before he unhooked it from his belt and held it up to open it again, when he heard the unmistakable sound of a clicking gas hob. And suddenly the lantern lit into flame.
He flinched, holding the lantern as far away as his arm would allow it to go. Okay, maybe the haunted rumors weren’t a lie. The flame burned low around the center, and when Flins entered the castle again, he tested the lantern’s light.
It was low. Not enough to see very far as he glanced around in the entrance's darkness. Flins made a soft, nervous sound as he looked at the lantern he held before he steeled his nerves and spoke.
“Lantern…” He said softly, waiting to see if the flame inside reacted at all. Nothing happened, the flame still burned and the lantern’s door remained shut. Flins took a deep breath and decided to continue. “I can't see very far. Could you, please, give me more light?”
He added the please in there on the off chance whatever ghost was haunting the lantern was specific about ‘respecting your elders’ and Flins wasn’t about to piss off a ghost in a castle he still needed to search. He watched the flame quietly for a long moment, and Flins held his breath with nervousness before he watched the flame in the lantern grow larger and brighter.
Flins couldn’t believe it. He watched in awe as the fire flickered within the purple metal of the lantern, reflecting through the glass as a beacon to guide the lighthouse keeper through the darkness of the castle. And all of a sudden, Flins was a little bit, no, a lot, more nervous about his prospects in a haunted castle.
“Th-Thank you,” Flins cursed himself internally at the stutter that cut through his words before he turned and looked deeper into the castle. Something made it a whole lot more terrifying with the only light being from the ghost lantern. But Flins pressed on none the less without a single clue of what was truly watching him in the darkness.